Page 36 of Little Monster
“Okay, cool.” Flustered, I turn quickly away. “I’ve just gotta get ready real fast.”
I slip into my bedroom and close the door, then lean back against it to catch my breath.
Dex is coming to my concert. He’s going to be out there, in the crowd, watching me.
And the thrill that goes through me refuses to be controlled.
chapter 13
AN HOUR LATER, I’M WEARING my all-black concert attire: an ankle-length dress that’s cinched in at the waist, black pumps, and touched-up black toenail polish. My hair is pulled back in a sleek half-up, half-down style, and I swept a bit of blush onto my cheeks and mascara onto my lashes.
Dex rides in the passenger’s seat as I drive us to the concert hall. I keep glancing over at him, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he’s here, with me, riding in my Honda Civic like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s a warm evening, and he rolls his window down. The breeze tousles his long hair. Watching it catch in the wind makes me want to reach over and run my fingers through it. I have to squeeze the steering wheel to keep from doing just that.
Dex has his shades on, but it makes no difference; the girls in the car next to us at the red light immediatelyrecognize him. Their faces light up, and all three of them—including the driver—reach for their phones and start snapping photos.
He smiles, but when we take off from the light, he rolls the window right back up and sighs as he settles back into the seat.
“Does that bother you?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained forward. It’s easier to talk to him when I don’t have to be dazzled by his face.
It takes a moment for him to respond. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess. Depends on the day.”
I worry at my lower lip, imagining how exhausting it would be to have people recognize me everywhere I go. Leaving my house is enough of a chore as it is.
“I’d hate it,” I say.
Out of my peripherals, I can see him glance at me. A furrow forms in his brow, but I can’t turn my head to look at him fully, can’t decipher the look he’s giving me. And then it’s gone, vanishing as quickly as the palm trees passing our windows as we cruise down the road at fifty-five.
A treble clef ornament hangs from my rearview mirror, and Dex reaches up to touch it, his tattoos contrasting against his skin.
“You’re cool, Nora,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully. He’s said my name before, and it’s delicious every time, but he uses a different intonation this time, and it almost sounds like a foreign word on his tongue.
That makes me glance over at him, but he’s not looking at me, instead watching as the treble clef spins around and around, catching and reflecting the light from the passing streetlamps.
After that, Dex becomes quiet, and we don’t speak the rest of the way to the venue.
I CAN’T COUNT THE NUMBER of concerts I’ve played in over the course of my career, but I can count on one hand how many times Dex Reid has been in the audience.
Tuning up in the greenroom, my hands were shaking, and now, as I wait in the wings with Eleanor, I have to take steadying breaths to calm my racing heart.
“You okay?” she asks, giving me a curious once-over. “You look... nervous.”
I flash her a smile. “I’m fine. I’ve got a... friend in the audience tonight.”
Is that what Dex is? A friend? I’m not so sure I can even call him that. A sexy acquaintance I want to tear the clothes off of? Sure. But a friend? Probably not. And that makes me sad for some reason.
We’re introduced onstage, and the orchestra begins filing out into the lights. Because Eleanor is here, she’ll take to the stage last, so I head out with the others and find my second-chair spot.
I want to know where Dex is sitting, but the lights are so bright that I can’t make out any of the audience members with clarity. But I swear I can feel his eyes on me, and I sit straighter as Eleanor walks onstage and takes her place before the orchestra. She tunes the lower strings first, followed by the higher strings, and then takes her seat beside me.
I play more passionately than usual, drawing out each vibrato with intensity and emotion. It’s as if I’m playing forhim, only him, in an auditorium with just the two of us. Knowing Dex is out there somewhere, watching me onstage, makes me want to perform at my highest ability, and I must do just that, because backstage after the performance, Mr. Edrington pulls me aside.
“I’m still taking sign-ups for the audition,” he says, peering at me over the thin rim of his glasses. His hair is wild from his energetic conducting, giving him a bit of an Einstein look. “You play in the audition like you did tonight, and you have a very good chance, Nora.”
“Thank you, sir.” I give him a bashful smile. “I’ll consider it.”
Yet again, he looks displeased with my answer.
